Chapter One: Dark Lucidity

Eldar Gods of Odessa:
Book I: Jo'Ahn

Chapter I: Dark Lucidity


He was encumbered by a darkening mass. An enveloping darkness surrounded the space about him forcing the light, little as it was, to yield. He was unsure as to why the light dissipated before him so. By his reckoning the time could be no more than…he paused as to feel his wrist, such was the darkness that he was devoid of sight and on it to his surprise no watch could be found; presented thither was a tenebrous air. Remembering the direction in which he was travelling before the fall of his shadowy pursuer, which now congruent to himself almost stagnated in progress, he continued to bear north-easterly, reconnoitring behind such stones and bushes as were available; to almost outwit its stealthy advances.

His thought drifted towards people, or the apparent lack of them. Normally this road: the Edolorian footpath was filled with many merchants hoarding treasures from lands seldom seen or far away. Slaves to be taken to the floating continent of Promethia made the majority of their wares, though once in an amethyst moon one might be able to procure a peculiar trinket or two; gemstones of varied and vibrant colours that shone so brightly in a dual sunlit sky they pierced your very core and soul itself. Ahead of the darkness which, if the light bereaved land was not playing tricks on his mind, began now to slow in pace; it crept about the western sky as though it were injured. He watched his stalker greedily; indeed it did seem the ominous darkness had at last ceased its pursuit.

Faintly he could perceive the Citadel of the Stars, Ultas, before him. Thirty laboured yards further and he rejoiced at the sight for the Citadel would surely bring about the semblance of normality he now longed for after his dance with darkness. However to his misfortune, instead of the associated joviality of the Citadel, he found only horror. Coming in through the southern entrance which fashioned a tall granite arch, surprisingly, noticed no armed guard about it, (normally the southern entrance of the Citadel of the Stars accommodated two sentinel watch guards; bewitched to respond to disturbances within the Citadel, though not crimes, for they were not invulnerable) though strangest of all was the sound, or rather its level.
These sounds, voices of things common and familiar within the Citadel blasted with such pandemonium that one should think a stampede was afoot, the cries of those in its unfortunate path equally as audible. It was not so, the horror that lay before him was none other than loud silence. To the extent his eyes could see, none inhabited the Citadel: shops stalls where the merchants made trade stood barren; the great tumult in the High Courts of Odessa which so often boomed the Great Gavel of justice stayed silent and not to forget the roaring of the dragons: dominion of the skies above, which to one visiting the Citadel of the Stars for the first time sounded like their submission to a gruesome and impending doom.

It did not matter that he did not do a full survey of the Citadel for such was the ruckus now he had resorted to hand over ear, as to somewhat mask the deafening quail; certainly not the kind of noise that could be made by a handful of people at any rate. At whiles the noise quietened and his movement around the Citadel mirrored that of a cautious thief, fearful that one wrong footstep should trigger again that sinister sonata of sound. Sitting beside the base of a fountain he thought of the tales he had been told of the Citadel of Stars as a child, by his father. How it had been wrought from the very ground itself by Geomancers of the Old Age, whom where all Dwarves. It was, for a while, their recluse until the Dark Elves, who were more proficient in fields such as Black Magik, annexed them from their land and even forbade them from taking solace among the Highlands of the Duran which lay north of the Citadel. Though, and that story told, be it quite sad, if ever a reason for Dwarven ignorance existed; to it the Citadel of the Stars paid tribute.

The ground leading into Ultas and slightly beyond was paved of solid marble such that one could look to the floor beneath them as if looking on their reflection in a mirror. Not only that, but due to the dwarves prolific skill; the marble was immune to dirt, grime, soot and their natural accumulation: this gave the Citadel borne of Earth an air of nobility, thence it was named world capital, and was quite the accomplishment in the Old Ages when Geomancy was but an infant in presence of the lasting immortality that is Black and White Magic(k).

With a springing step he decided to visit the High Courts of Odessa, why not? Seeing as apparently no one existed anymore and he had committed no crime: why not visit the courts that none can enter save the condemned? Like a rediscovered trace, the thought that this was all a horrid dream flicked through his mind…
‘But it all seems so real’ he thought to himself, the very water by fountain he just left had tasted so cool and refreshing at a draught. Then a voice added ‘Your mind can make anything as real as you want it to be, when in dream’
‘Who goes there?’ He cried, unsheathing the Iron Broadsword he oft carried about him. Looking at the blades gleaming reflection on the marble paved ground he calmed, re-sheathed his weapon and continued to the High Courts which lay due south in the furthest sector of the Citadel.
As he approached the lofty heights of the High Courts, where held were the cases in judicial question by judge and jury, he began to brood over the Judges of the High Courts; they were allegedly appointed by the people of Odessa through the Academics of the land, though he knew full well if that was the case then it was just all the more likely that the High Elves of the Yhris Council, reaching as far as the Monarchy, were behind the selectees and eventual appointed members of the justice enforcement trio, otherwise known as JET.

The trio comprised of three Evolved Beings in Odessa. The premise being that the most powerful or ‘closest to the Gods’ were the best candidates for choosing the fate of others. He did not begrudge this policy, for the three Judges, at least not wholly Elven, went about their duties righteously; with only contempt for the wrong-doers of the world. With roving eyes he gazed upon on the onyx walls of the three courts which were situated in the form of, to one who beheld its majesty aerially, a scalene triangle: the world at last seemed to him quite dead. He wished he could wake from this damned dream, if that indeed it was, as he had grown lonely and the vastness of Citadel which in his youth had seemed endless and labyrinthine: the perfect playground now haunted his heart. He longed for companionship.

After what seemed an age, the darkness returned and such was his insular thought that he was almost glad for it, save for when the beauty of the marble pavement was diminished and he could again see nothing. He had not made it inside the High Courts yet turned and sprinted for all his worth, perhaps through exhaustion this nightmare would abate. The darkness stalked the star painted sky in its wake, swallowing moon above and sea below. He believed now fully that he was the intended target of its shadowy embrace and that running from his destiny was hopeless.

In a burst of movement he lost his footing, rather the ground beneath him faltered. Already some distance from the southern entrance of the Citadel, he reasoned here should lay grassland; yet what he felt at the sole of his feet was more akin to mud or sand and in it he fell at will! The movement was instantaneous as he had no time to try and reposition his body. Once his foot wavered, he fell. No words could describe his horror or surprise at what followed next: a second of black, pitch black; then he was faced down on grassland…but not as that of the pasture he was on before. The grass his sensorium beheld here was less kept and more fragrant and aromatic. He dared not open his eyes or lift his head off the grassy land beneath, then deciding to choose darkness was to choose ignorance he turned swiftly and drew his Iron Broadsword, as if expecting some enemy unseen and unheard, aligning the wide blade directly before him he looked on the stainless steel for an answer to the question he dared not ask.
In response a black cloud-like mass swirled mockingly, taunting him. He ran again. But he was no longer in the vicinity of the Citadel of the Stars, nor of his homeland, Edolor of Exor but in what he believed was the agricultural hub of Odessa, Faunus the Farm-Land. How he came to be in the Farm-Land was a question lost on him, for he could now run no further, exhaustion had mastered him, and all hopes of this dreary affair being nothing more than a terrifying nightmare went exeunt with the west wind: defeated, desolate and demoralised he stood still and the triumphant darkness engulfed him.

Now he truly was devoid of all sight.

His eyes were open yet he saw nothing ahead him, about him or behind him. He was angry and fearful. Daring not move he waited where he was, forlornly expectant of one who might explain his fate and how he came to be. In the cusp of his right hand remained his broadsword, unsheathed as it was he felt a difference: the sword was heavy or that through weariness his remaining strength filtered uncontrollably …
No, he thought, it was definitely heavier. Again the sinking sensation faltered his feet and as before fell flat on his face. ‘Getting kinda tired of this way of tra-‘ he stopped mid-sentence to look about him and to his surprise he was in his family homes garden.
Getting up he felt a great weight, like gravity had betrayed him and now wanted to crush him beneath it. Slowly he made his way to the back door for it was a fine summer’s day in Edolor: they were graced with both suns blazing high on the sky and the weight he now carried made quick movements painful. Sweat trickled down his brow, ‘this has got to be the strangest dream of the ages…if indeed in dream I remain’ he pondered, then in madness
‘how does one know when they are not dreaming? Thus answered, ‘when they are awake…’ unsatisfied asked again, ‘how does one know when they are awake and how does one define ‘awake’?’ Grinning he responded ‘that’s two questions Jo’. When at last he reached the back door, which in his present state was considerably far from the rear end of his garden, which should just have been called a field, for the land stretched some six acres (normally a morning’s jog to and fro). As he entered his abode he felt a familiar presence, it was like that of the darkness…but as he looked back outside he could see only two suns and a pale near cloudless sky. Unsheathing his Broadsword again he sighed, if he intended to battle it would be to his aggressors benefit as sustained combat would be almost impossible, such was the swords’ newfound tremendous weight. Creeping, blade drawn and ready he heard a woman scream. ‘Mother!’ he breathed

‘Curse this weight!’ he swore, his mother’s scream had sounded from the houses master bedroom, which was at the top floor of its three storey foundation. Making his way with all speed as he could afford he came to the entrance of his parents’ room and as he opened the door he saw his father, sword in hand and from its tip poured red raindrops; adjacent to its tip, which was lowered some 15 degrees, lay his mother and looking on the figure which resembled his father the recurring omnipotent and omniocculent darkness unfolded to reveal not the face of his father, but his own.